Here in our valley the warm air presses down on the cold, trapping the freezing muck and dirt and smog and sadness in the valley.

The only way to escape is by driving.

Driving higher and farther, in search of the sun and clear skies – they are out there somewhere, you just have to find them.

Sometimes I have to pause and remember to take the cold and cruel lessons of February and ponder them. All the convoluted emotions I experience in the winter are like giant waves, up and down, pulling me this way and that. This month has involved cruel circumstances – pain and suffering of someone I love. She knows who she is.

And this person inevitably leads my mind back to the state of Oklahoma, where I spent lots of time in my childhood and college years. While faced with sadness and confusion, there are certain people in that state I know I can still turn to. People who will pick up and listen to me and the years that have grown between us melt away.

I’m a nostalgic friend. Nostalgic about the love I have felt for people. The experiences we’ve shared. Because once someone means something to me, I carry a piece of them in me forever. They don’t leave. And I’m old enough and brave enough now to say this and be proud of it. As I become older, my love for certain people becomes more fierce.

I don’t share songs I like that often; but I’m asking you today to listen to this one by the Lumineers. Its title is Stubborn Love and speaks volumes to me today about life’s complications…people…friends…myself…experiences…and the fact that parts of us never change. It’s OK to hold on to some things, I believe. Because if I completely let go of all the pieces or people who make up this ball of confusion that is called me, I’m afraid I’d scatter in the wind like wisps of dry grass.

Tell me this song compels you to think of someone you once knew. Or tell me it brings back a memory. You can even say it’s painful. Or just tell me that it is a reminder to you that when February feels cold, you should bundle up. And keep your head up.